


4.32am

by pansexualdisaster



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Other, and yes, i self-projected on Jeno a little bit leave me alone, idk i felt like sharing, so i wrote my feelings after my dreams, this is super short, writing your feelings out is good apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-07 00:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexualdisaster/pseuds/pansexualdisaster





	4.32am

Jeno glances at his phone. 4.32 a.m. Again. He kicks the blanket and rises up to his feet. He forgot to close the blinds again, he can see the city lights piercing through the curtains. He can't see the moon. Fuck he hates it when he can't see the moon. He hates the whole goddamn city. (No he doesn't.)

  
He goes back to his nightstand and grabs his pack of cigarettes. He has not smoked in quite some times already, Jaemin and Donghyuck helped him quit because he asked... but maybe tonight, one, just one won't hurt. No, no, no, no. He has stopped smoking for a reason. Come on, come on.  
He opens the window. Everything is silver and blue in his room, so the yellow lights surpise him. He sits on the windowsill, where the lady in the appartment in front of his, right across the street keeps her dying geraniums.  
He kept his lighter in hand, and let his left thumb run on the sparkswheel, lighting up smalls flames, momentarly, with the regularity of a metronome.

He woke up to a dream, but this one did not left him panting, his heart beating faster than he can handle with the anxiety it could have awoken in him. No, this dream left him feeling loved. There had been this moment, where his body had woken up but his mind hadn't, where the whole thing felt real and he had not realized he had been dreaming yet. He could have almost extended his hand and felt it meet the comforting warmth of somebody else. Then he realized it was all a fantasy, and that nobody loved him like that. This realization left him feeling like the décor for his brain's latest creation had crashed down, taking with it a part of him, leaving a hole in his chest and his heart out in the open.

Nobody loves him like that.

Honestly, Jeno hates good dreams even more than the bad ones that wake him up gasping for air and terrified. He hates good dreams because they reminds him eerything he lost, everything and everyone who left. God, everyone leaves.

Jeno feels like he is crying, when in fact, he is not. He would rather be crying though, and stop this gross feeling that he is crying inside, the tears never reaching his eyes, his organs drowing and slowly decaying because they are too engorged with water. Salty water. Ugh, gross.

Yeah, Jeno feels gross. Why else would he be so alone if he wasn't so gross. He is so gross he has to create people who love him, because that idea sounds so crazy that it can't, it _ can't _ become true, not in this universe, not in any universes where he is like this.

He gets back inside, the night's air is too chilly. And he can't seem to fucking cry or calm down or get whatever he came to get when he went out.

As he goes back to sleep, he does not dare to lie on his belly, as he usually would. He is too scared to put the aching hole the dream left him with against anything.


End file.
